Before I begin, I just need to confess something. Apart from today, I haven’t managed to drag myself out of bed earlier than 9am this week – 9 friggin’ AM. You know you’ve had one too many lie-ins when your spine actually starts to ache.
Sorry, what is happening here? Is my name Jenna Rink and am I trapped in a teenager’s body? Because if I am, then a) that would make me feel better about my boob situation but b) where the hell are all my Razzles?
This is the girl who normally springs out of bed at 6.30am every day but apparently, she can’t come to the phone right now because she’s a sloth, albeit a sloth clad in Cath Kidston Christmas pjs.
Tbh, the only reason I got out of bed before 9am today is because I had to go to the gym. I’m not even being dramatic, I really HAD to go. I ate a disgusting amount of French Fancies yesterday, so many in fact that I started to identify as a mademoiselle for a while there.
Ya see, I’m someone who likes to be on the go. I busy myself even when I’m meant to be relaxing, because if I’m not being productive with my day, I get agitated, restless and annoyingly giggly before bed.
I then get a weird nasal drip thing from all the laughing and snotting everywhere which leaves me coughing for half the night – I fear I’ve done that thing where I go too far with information.
By the way, I totally count watching Zoella go from store to store buying Halloween stuff on her vlog and sinking my third latte as being productive, just so you know what kinda benchmark we’re working with here. Refreshing Instagram also counts.
So this week hasn’t been my most fruitful. I haven’t gone to the gym every day like I said I would and so far, it being 15.25 on a Friday afternoon, I don’t hold out much hope that I’ll get round to scrubbing the toilet bowl the way Mary Berry told me to in her Household tips book. See, there stands a productive woman. Not only is she good at baking, she also knows the recipe for a happy home and that my ol’ pals, is a glistening bog. There’s me thinking it was a boyfriend who learns to actually put his washing inside the laundry basket, not on top of it. Silly me.
I’ve had more sleep than I’ve had in a long time but somehow I feel so tired and I’ve managed to catch a cold in the process *yipee*
Oh, and I also parked so close to a dead pigeon the other day that when I opened the car door to step out, its perpendicular wing touched my leg. So that was an experience I never thought I’d have.
But I’ve also made time for a lot of things I wouldn’t normally get the chance to do. Like picking my nephew up from nursery, going to grab coffee with friends and signing up to a wreath-making class at my local florist. I know, Mary Berry who?
It just got me thinking about how, regardless of how lethargic and crappy I’ve felt this week – maybe it’s a touch of the ol’ Seasonal Affective Disorder, then again who am I kidding I love autumn/winter – it’s ok to have off days. After all, they’re a rarity for me.
Perhaps this cold has got the better of me or it could have been dead pigeon gate that’s thrown me off kilter this week, or maybe I just need to stop making excuses for feeling crappy and you know, just feel crappy! How about that?
Accept it, feel it, acknowledge it and then move on. Every now and again, you need to experience the ‘pits’ in order to recognise the ‘peaks’.
Oh, and I also parked so close to a dead pigeon the other day that when I opened the car door to step out, its perpendicular wing touched my leg. So that was an experience I never thought I’d have.
Granted, yours might not be the same dead pigeon kinda pit as mine but whatever you identify as the bad bits of your day, your month or even your year (well isn’t this turning into a little Friends theme tune sing-a-long), it’s all relative and it’s all providing you with the knowledge of balance – whether you choose to recognise it as such is really and solely down to you.
And yeah, of course it’s hard. Not everyone finds it easy to pick themselves up and just sprinkle a bit of the glass is half full theory on their Coco Pops in the morning but being tolerant and patient towards yourself and all the complex emotions you face every day? That’s a bladddy good start. A pigeon-step, some may say.
Without the pits we really can’t learn to appreciate the peaks, not in their entirety. You need one to help define the other.
So here’s to learning to listen to all your feelings and refusing to feel guilty if you’re not dancing to Mr Tumble’s cheery beat. He’s a sh*t dancer anyway.
Love you bye.
Photography by Olivia Foley
